~ 3 ~
Intro
It was a clear winters nig
h
t, just a few days after New Years 1997, w
h
en I made t
h
e decision toblow somet
h
ing up. Me,
Josh
(my perennial brot
h
er in
Chaos
), and our/my mentor Jeff, were ridingdeep into t
h
e
S
out
h
side of Winston-
S
alem.
Jeff
h
ad picked us up from t
h
e
Curb Kid
h
ouse we were livingat on
Sprague St
. He did t
h
is often, s
h
owing us corners of our town we were unfamiliar wit
h
, crackedout, run down sections w
h
ere time stopped somew
h
ere between 1964 and 1972. Places only a crazy ex-cab driver would know. T
h
at nig
h
t as we tooled around in t
h
e
Scout
(as
h
e called it), Jeffs arm
h
angingout t
h
e window letting in t
h
e cold nig
h
t air,
h
e drove us out to w
h
at was once t
h
e pride of Winstonsyoung underground scene. An abandon skate park, once owned by town punk legends, it
h
ad long sincebeen overrun by weeds and crack
h
eads, so Jeff broug
h
t
h
is gun. We did not run into any crack
h
eads orfind some lost spirit of our towns past, but we did find somet
h
ing else. Rummaging t
h
roug
h
t
h
e garbageof w
h
at was years gone by, a flea market, we came across an old car amplifier. A useless black box totwo kids wit
h
no car and a man wit
h
a
73 Jeep Scout
, but we kept it for some strange reason.After a brief wrap up of our tour, we
h
eaded back into our familiar section of town. We wentand ate at our old favorite-
M
r. Waffle
. At t
h
e time, it was a greasy 24-
h
our
h
ole in t
h
e wall, w
h
ereWinstons finest drunks,
h
ookers, and crooked cops came to end t
h
e nig
h
t. As we stood in t
h
e parkinglot after our meal, finis
h
ing conversations and staring up at t
h
e stars in t
h
e Nort
h
Carolina sky, Jeff grewstill,
h
e cocked
h
is
h
ead back as if
h
e were a dog or wolf
h
earing somet
h
ing we could not. I asked
h
imw
h
at was wrong, only to be silenced wit
h
a
shh.
T
h
en looking bot
h
Jos
h
and me square in t
h
e eyes,some
h
ow simultaneously,
h
e said, You
h
ear t
h
at? Looking at eac
h
ot
h
er, we s
h
rugged.No I said, Hear w
h
at?
Exactly
,
h
e said, wit
h
t
h
is maddening gleam in
h
is eyes. T
h
en placing bot
h
h
ands on t
h
e roof of t
h
e
S
cout
h
e said,
Theres nothing. You know why that is?
Perplexed we s
h
ook our
h
eads no.
Its becauseof the mall!
We did not really speak muc
h
after t
h
at, Jeff dropped us back off w
h
ere
h
e
h
ad rescued us. Byt
h
en my w
h
eels were turning. A week later as we sat in t
h
e living room staring at t
h
e static on t
h
etelevision I knew w
h
at needed to be done and by providence, I
h
ad prop
h
esized on New Years Eve t
h
at1997 would be t
h
e year we (my clan) would blow-up. I
h
ad at first meant get popular and I was not farfrom t
h
e trut
h
. As I sat t
h
ere in t
h
e living room on t
h
e afternoon of January 7t
h
, staring at t
h
e black boxJos
h
h
ad constructed, using some black electrical tape and t
h
e car amp from t
h
at fateful nig
h
t. Jeffswords rambled t
h
roug
h
my
h
ead. His voice,
h
is eyes,
h
is dead pan since of twisted
h
umor will forever bea part of me. T
h
e idea began to unfold and take s
h
ape in my mind. I instructed Amber (my first love andLetter A. Virgo number one) to start cutting up magazines for a note. Jos
h
and I began making s
h
rapnelw
h
ile static rolled over t
h
e television screen.T
h
e crime itself was perfect. T
h
ere were no witnesses, no evidence, and no motive. It took t
h
ree
h
ours from concept to execution. T
h
e clot
h
es we wore to commit it were tossed in dumpsters on t
h
eway
h
ome. We wore gloves and wiped everyt
h
ing clear of prints. No one saw Jos
h
make t
h
e drop or Iplace t
h
e calls. However, c
h
ildis
h
pride and foolis
h
arrogance trapped us. I could not keep a secret. Icould not wait a w
h
ile and t
h
en confess I wanted everyone in town to know it was we t
h
at
h
ad balls t
h
isbig. I
h
ad no regard of consequences. T
h
erefore, I got my wis
h
.
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